As I Lay Dying
by SSpeedy
Summary: And to think... five seconds ago, you were king of the world. Fic-request. Sort of a remake of With My Head Held in My Hands.
1. I

**A/N: **This was a fic-request, requested by a friend who wasn't pleased with With My Head Held in My Hands. Not my best due to a sleep deprived brain.  
Normally I work well at _two o'clock in the morn... ing._

ENJOY. It's not a oneshot this time.

* * *

The patrollers swarmed and struck the side of the Saint Nazaire. It let out a whale like groan as it swerved away in attempts to escape. The Hyperion spun and spurred out of the line of fire, turned, and returned with its own barrage of missiles.

Still there were too many. They responded fast to the distress signal that was transmitted from the water carrier before it was robbed and destroyed. In minutes the Sphere Patrol ships had the rebels surrounded like killer bees after one of their comrades died due to stinging a threat.*

Wayan struggled with the defenses. The shields that wrapped around the Saint Nazaire quickly dropped from blue to red and, before long, it would shatter against a strong enough attack that would single the beginning of their ultimate defeat.

The Mosquitoes had returned to their hatches. They would require major repair with the damage brought to them. Only one, however, didn't make it back. Its shrapnel shattered stray blocks down below the battle along with a badly beaten corpse of its unlucky pilot. He would die in vein if his fellow rebels didn't make it out alive.

"Take this!" Mahad spat as he pushed the Hyperion into full throttle.

The cannons unleashed their missiles and, upon contact, three S-22s went out in flames. The C-Class fighter darted into the smoke and floated idle.

"Mahad!" shouted Cortes over the radio. "Mahad, get your damned ass back to the Saint Nazaire before you hurt yourself!"

"I thought yo--" Mahad's reply was interrupted.

The Hyperion was shot. The right engine smoldered with black clouds. Mahad was quick to respond as he pulled back on the controls to keep its nose up to catch the wind. He needed to at least glide to safety.

"Mahad!" Lena shouted.

"Sonuva," Cortes growled. "Cheng, get the landing deck ready!"

As it spun around, a few patrollers got knocked over due to the turbulence and crashed head-on into stray chunks of floating earth. Cortes saw this and he damn as hell didn't want the same thing to happen to Mahad.

The Hyperion jerked upward and released its last missile at an oncoming patroller. Mahad struggled with the controls to keep his ship high enough to allow it to perch on its proper landing site.

It glided heavily over the Saint Nazaire. The damaged engine howled against the Hyperion's stunts but Mahad kept steady to get it aboard.

Then the strained engine exploded and forced the Hyperion far out of the rebel war ship's reach. Mahad let out a yell just before it crash landed somewhere below.


	2. II

**A/N: **I'll only take fic-requests if the idea strikes my interest... or you badger me repeatedly like the person who requested this. XD  
Just letting you know.

* * *

He stared at blood stained on the palm of his hand. The Hyperion's power was almost completely dead and, on the windshield next to him, was a blob of blood from when his head smashed against the glass.

Mahad stuck out his tongue to separate his chapped lips. He had a headache coming on and the fact his ship crash landed on what was luckily a fair sized block caused him to breathe rapidly in panic.

"Damn it," spat Mahad. He slammed his palms on the console. "Damn it! DAMMIT!"

Just then the communicator came to life and with it a voice said, "Ma… Are yo… ahad, ca…"

It was scrambled, but Mahad knew it was Cortes' voice. He attempted to calm his voice, but still raised it high in reply, "Cortes, I'm fine but the Hyperion's power is draining! No wait, I'm bleeding! AAH! Cortes, help me!"

On the other line, however, they barely understood him due to static.

"He's alive," muttered Lena in relief.

"He won't be for long if we don't help him," said Cortes. "Wayan, how many Sphere pests are left?"

"About five, captain," answered Wayan. "Wait, make that four."

Cortes paused for a moment and tapped his fingered rather violently on the railing next to him. He cleared his throat and gave out his order, "Take the rear turret, Wayan. Dahlia, full speed ahead. They'll follow behind us."

---

Mahad looked up and watched helplessly as the Saint Nazaire flew by. At first he thought they were abandoning him, but when a trailing Sphere patroller was shot out of the sky he changed his theory and let of a sigh of ease.

Mahad pressed a hand against his chest and slumped back in his seat. He took in long, deep breaths in hopes it'll calm his rapidly pounding heart. Despite the large goose egg on the left side of his head, Mahad would be okay.

But what about his ship? Mahad looked at the damaged right engine. The fire died down, but still gushed out smoke like a middle aged man who can't go five minutes without a cigarette or two.

Can it be repaired? That question was unknown to Mahad. The Hyperion had flown through hell and back before but even with such experience could it reach its limit.

The thumping against Mahad's hand eased down to a semi-normal rhythm. Mahad let in another deep breath, feeling loss in oxygen.

Then the co-pilot controllers suddenly exploded. Mahad jumped in surprise and quickly hit the emergency open button on his side controls. The windshields swung open and the frightened teenager scrambled out and away from his beloved ship.

Seconds later, he fell to his knees and elbows and curled in a fetal position and the Hyperion erupted into flames as if it stalled just long enough for Mahad to get a fair distance between them. The back of Mahad's shirt was scorched by falling debris that either died out or singed their way through to his tender flesh beneath.

Mahad ignored the pain as much as he could, rolled over to a sit, and watched the fire dance on the Hyperion. He struggled to his feet and stood with a slouch in his back and shoulders and a tremble in his knees. Tears streamed down Mahad's cheeks at the sight of his—no, his _father's_ ship destroyed in mere minutes.

Mahad's eyes followed the rising smoke to the sky. From the smoke an S-22 darted out and, from the sudden loss of any vision, flew downward and fired.


	3. III

**A/N: **I cut this chapter short by request... Hm? She requested the fic; I follow orders. One more chapter after this unless she changes her mind about something that'll require a fifth.

Enjoy. _Or not._

* * *

It startled him. The ray of energy struck the ground in front of Mahad and, though it was a clear miss, his feet slipped out from under him and he landed on the ground behind him.

"Ow, my ass!" he growled.

The Sphere patroller was knocked out of the sky in mere seconds thanks to the Saint Nazaire. The ship let out a groan due to a strained haul and Cortes winced at the sound, but had it to continue its path to rescue a fallen rebel.

Mahad coughed when the change in wind sent smoke to glaze over his body. The sound of his coughing blocked his ears from picking up the silent crackle of rock breaking away. The Saint Nazaire touched down on the block and Mahad got up to his feet the best he could.

Then the small sliver of land he stood on broke off. He had no idea that the block was actually quite thin and that the Hyperion exploding was the least of his problems.

Now Mahad fell, his hands held up toward the rebel war ship that sped from his reach. There was nothing he could do; gravity was in control now. Though Mahad's body would gain speed with every second that lugged by, he felt almost in slow motion with the horrid sensation of the folds of the clothes flapping against his skin and his arms and legs limp and useless.

Mahad couldn't inhale; he was in so much shock that he lost the ability to breath. His flesh was cold and marked with soot along with his attire.

Only one thing processed through his mind during his fall: _Will I survive?_

He then came to a sudden hault on a block farther down.


	4. IV

**A/N: **Almost over.

Until then, here's Roman numeral four.

* * *

Mahad could hear crying. It was his sister. No, his _baby _sister. Mahad's eyes were shut but he could see his mother holding the new born Lena in her arms; one his first memories he held on to.

_No, _Mahad thought to himself. _Not now. Oh God, don't let this be the end!_

His eyes opened and he let out a cough. His mouth and nose gushed blood. Mahad grunted and stretched his arms ever so slightly in response to the pain that pulsed through his entire body.

He had landed on his back and couldn't feel his legs. His spine was damaged, which left his legs immobile.

Mahad tried to look around, but his eyes hurt. The land caused his eye sockets to rupture and blood mixed with tears poured from his lids.

He would be dead in no time. Mahad knew it. He only wished he could say goodbye to Lena before his soul departed off the face of Skyland.

"_Can you reach it?" _It started again; his life playing back before his. It was a little girl's voice this time.

"_Sure I can, little sis," announced Mahad. He was ten and Lena was five. _

_There was a Frisbee stuck in a tree and Mahad was already halfway up to get it. He continued to climb one branch at a time until he came up the bushel of leaves on which Frisbee sat on. Mahad reached out his small hand in attempts to grab hold of it. _

_And he did._

_But his opposite arm used to keep hold of the tree trunk uncoiled for a split second and that second was just enough time to loose his balance and fall._

Mahad was stricken with another sensation of pain. His right arm twitched the second his memory self hit the ground; Mahad had broken his arm when he fell out of the tree that day and he broke it again when he fell from the block.

Tears and blood streamed down the side of his face from the twinge through his body. Saliva mixed with blood gurgled in the back of his throat before he spat it out like a llama spitting in someone's face.

Mahad then let out a series of wails of agony and desperation that were interrupted now and again with coughs. Each cough was like a hammer that thrashed at his temples and the back of his head. He tried to hold them back, but the feeling of a rock in his throat forced him to hack away anyway.

Mahad's vision became blurry and tinted light red. But, despite the decrease in visual quality, he could swear a giant whale was descending over him.

As the shadow grew bigger, his lids fell heavy and closed over his eyes.


	5. V

**A/N: **This got too long so I cut it in half. Didn't want it to be unbalanced. X3

* * *

"Mahad!" called Lena while she raced out of Cortes' reach and onto the block on which her big brother landed.

Cortes and Dahlia dashed after her with Wayan and Bradley, a Mosquito pilot, following with a stretcher.

"Lena, wait!" Shouted Cortes.

Lena froze at the command. She fell to her knees next to Mahad with her hands frozen over his chest. Cortes arrived on the opposite side of Mahad and got down on one knee.

"Le… na," Mahad muttered. Lena flinched.

"Mah—Mahad?" Lena whimpered. She placed a hand on his arm and Mahad let out a cry in pain. She jumped.

"I have a question for you, Mahad," announced Cortes with a wave of his hand in front of the injured boy's face. His left eye opened slightly and Cortes continued, "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Mahad tried to focus enough on the two fingers the rebel captain held in his path of sight. After a brief couple seconds, he managed to answer with an incorrect, "Four."

"His pulse is rapid," announced Dahlia.

"Let's get him inside," said Cortes, "fast."

The stretcher was placed on the ground next to Mahad. Bradley slipped his hands under Mahad's arms while Wayan hand his legs. They carefully lifted him off the ground and on the stretcher, picked it up by the stainless steal handles, and carried him back on the Saint Nazaire with Cortes, Lena, and Dahlia following.

It was gentle, but the shift in his spine from being lifted sent another jolt of pain through his body like a ripple in the water. He winced and squirmed in place.

---

The Saint Nazaire was returning home. The bench in the cockpit was made into a temporary bed for Mahad so he could stay close to everyone.

_Just incase. _

Padding was put down before his trembling body was rested down on it so blood wouldn't stain the surface of the bench. And for a selfless excuse, so the germs wouldn't cause infection to his wounds. Even though there was a lot of blood, there were barely any inflictions on his body. Most of the red fluid came from his eyes, nose, mouth, and the back of his head.

Dahlia kept Lena occupied so she wouldn't see anything horrid when Cortes, Wayan, and the Vector examined Mahad for any hidden damage. His jacket was unzipped and his black shirt underneath was lifted up to his neck.

"See this swelling?" whispered Vector with his hand hovering over a purplish bulge on Mahad's abdomen. "That's blood build up. He's bleeding internally."

Almost on cue Mahad hacked blood out of his mouth and allowed Vector to add, "That's from his stomach."

Cortes and Wayan were silent. Then the captain decided to ask, "Is there hope for him?"

Vector crooked his jaw out of place. He continued to examine the minor as though he didn't hear Cortes' request or wondering weather or not to be honest or optimistic.

"If he survives when we get on Puerto Angel," Vector went for the latter, "he'll stand a fighting chance."

Wayan had checked nerve activity in Mahad's legs before Vector said that. It was his turn to speak up and he cleared his throat to get their attention.

Cortes and Vector looked at him. Wayan pulled the wrinkled pants leg back down to the ankle, but he didn't bother to put Mahad's shoe back on.

"He's paralyzed," he said in a low tone.

Cortes lost his voice and shifted his head in Dahlia's direction. She stood with her back slightly turned toward them, but she stared back. Lena was clung to her with her chin rested on the fold of Dahlia's arm and tear glazed eyes aimed at them. Cheng stood closely by. He was doing his best to help Dahlia calm Lena down.

"And," Vector paused for a brief second, "a few broken ribs."

Cortes looked down at Mahad. He moved his arm over Vector's shoulder causing the old man the shift out of the way. Cortes' hand rested gently on Mahad's shoulder that flinched at the contact. Mahad looked up at him with misery filled eyes.

Cortes finally found his voice again and mustered, "You'll make it to Puerto Angel, Mahad. I promise you."

Cortes' legs finally decided to move him to the captain's platform. There was a tremble in his stride. He suddenly felt regret for the last thing he said.


	6. VI

After pulling Mahad's shirt back over him, Vector explained to Lena what was wrong: The broken right arm, broken ribs, and paralysis. Yes, he left of the fact that Mahad was bleeding internally.

Lena's tears streamed down her face and she ran to Mahad's side. Dahlia trailed behind her along with Cheng. Wayan drifted back out of the way and followed Vector to the master computer, only to pass him so he could head to his station.

Mahad raised his left hand and cupped it over Lena's right. She collapsed to her knees and placed her left hand over her big brother's. The blood stopped running out of Mahad's eyes so his view was clearer then before; he just couldn't control the build up of tears that his system used to flush his sockets from the remains of blood.

"You'll be okay," whimpered Lena. "Won't you?"

His eyes sparked and he smiled lightly at her. His hand slipped out from between Lena's and stroke the side of his little sister's face. Mahad he didn't answer but, with a hoarse voice, asked, "How long 'til we get home?"

"We're going full speed," Cheng answered. "About ten minutes."

Dahlia felt a sudden shake in her knees and decided to sit herself down on the floor. Lena got up and sat up on an unoccupied space on the bench closer to her beloved brother. Cheng hesitated for a moment before he got down closer next to Dahlia.

Mahad's joints quaked and his eyes flickered upward. He took in a deep breath with a squeak in pain in the back of his throat. His eyes squeezed tightly shut and, for a moment, his entire body seemed to loose all tension.

"….Mahad….?" Lena muttered.

Mahad groaned in response. He forced his eyes open and looked up at Lena who shivered in fear. He smiled again and raised his left hand up to her and gently stroked the side of her face. His palms were tinted light red, but that didn't phase Lena a bit. She carefully lowered herself until she was practically lying down, but still sitting. At first she'd just hold her head just over Mahad's shoulder, but with a pat on her head, she was encouraged to relax her neck muscles and rest her head on it instead.

Just then, Mahad muttered lightly in Lena's ear and her expression contorted to confusion and worry.

Cheng looked at Dahlia then stood up. He wondered off over to where the Vector was and sat down. Dahlia stood up to get a better look at Mahad. His eyes were closed with a twitch of his lids every so often. She leaned forward, careful not to disturb Lena, and pressed her lips gently on Mahad's forehead.

To her surprise, her only reaction was a deep breath intake and a squeak from the back of his throat upon exhaling. He knew who she was; Mahad knew it was Dahlia. He just couldn't find the strength to react.

Dahlia placed a hand over Mahad's forehead as though she was checking him for a fever. She wasn't, but she noticed the chill brought to her when her warm skin contacted his cold flesh.

Dahlia stood upright and wondered over to the computer. She felt it would be necessary to give the siblings some time alone since it looked like Mahad would be alright.

"We're docking in Puerto Angel," announced Wayan. "We're home."

There was silence, despite the ruffling of the rebels preparing to get off the ship. Wayan and Cortes got the stretcher ready to carry Mahad off to the infirmary.

Then, suddenly, Lena shouted, "He's dead!"

Cortes balked and dropped the stretcher. Vector was the first by Mahad's side with his index and middle finger pressed against the chronic artery. He shook his head and picked up his wrist, praying there was a pulse there.

Lena was pulled away from Mahad by Dahlia. She spun around and clung to Dahlia, her face pressed on Dahlia's shoulder.

Cortes got up next to Vector who looked at his captain with a shake of his head. "No…" His weight shifted forward, his elbows locked, and his palms planted firmly on the wall over the bench. His head bowed and his eyes were wide and stared at what was now a dead copse.

Strange… he looked so peaceful. Mahad's eyes were closed, no longer twitching and his mouth shut, no longer coughing. His left arm hung over the side of the bench, lifeless, until Vector brought it back up to Mahad's side.

Vector turned around and rested a hand on Lena's shoulder. She didn't move because she already knew. "I so sorry, Lena," he said with a calm tone. "He's gone."

Lena erupted into full blown cries. Dahlia held her close in reaction to Lena's tight grip on the back of her shirt. She didn't squall like the heart broken sister, but she did shed tears.

Wayan pulled a sheet over Mahad's body. Though out of sight, Cortes still stared at it. Wayan placed a hand on his captain's shoulder and said, is a steady tone, "You did keep your promise. He did make it home."

Cortes' eye twitched. "He just," he fought to keep his voice clear, "wasn't strong enough. And we weren't fast enough to save him." His voice snapped at his last syllable. "Damn… it…"

Wayan paused. He muttered, "He's in a better place."

"_I love you, Lena," Mahad said with a weak tone. "Be strong."_

And those were his last words. Mahad knew he was a goner and he covered it with a smile. So long as he made it to Puerto Angel; home. So that Cortes would keep his promise that he would.

There was a flash just outside of Puerto Angel followed by a large, crackling boom. It caught everyone's attention.

Then it started to rain.

_Oh, the irony._

* * *

**A/N: **Irony is such a bitch. Is why it ends like that.  
....I do love Mahad, really.


End file.
